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Modern English
Come thy ways, Signior Fabian.
Come on, Signior Fabian.
Nay, I’ll come: if I lose a scruple of this sport, let me be boiled to death with melancholy.
No, I’ll come: if I miss out on a bit of this fun, let me be boiled alive with sadness.
Wouldst thou not be glad to have the niggardly rascally sheep-biter come by some notable shame?
Wouldn’t you be happy to see the stingy, sneaky troublemaker suffer some big embarrassment?
I would exult, man: you know, he brought me out o’ favour with my lady about a bear-baiting here.
I would rejoice, man: you know, he got me out of my lady’s favor because of a bear-baiting incident here.
To anger him we’ll have the bear again; and we will fool him black and blue: shall we not, Sir Andrew?
We’ll make him angry again, like we did with the bear; and we’ll beat him up good: won’t we, Sir Andrew?
An we do not, it is pity of our lives.
If we don’t, it’ll be a shame for us.
Here comes the little villain.
Here comes the little troublemaker.
How now, my metal of India!
What’s up, my little treasure from India!
Get ye all three into the box-tree: Malvolio’s coming down this walk: he has been yonder i’ the sun practising behavior to his own shadow this half hour: observe him, for the love of mockery; for I know this letter will make a contemplative idiot of him. Close, in the name of jesting! Lie thou there,
You three, get in the box-tree: Malvolio’s coming down this path: he’s been out there in the sun, practicing walking in front of his own shadow for the last half hour: watch him, just for fun; I know this letter will turn him into a serious idiot. Get ready, for the sake of the joke! Lie down there,
for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling.
Here comes the fish that needs to be caught with teasing.
’Tis but fortune; all is fortune. Maria once told me she did affect me: and I have heard herself come thus near, that, should she fancy, it should be one of my complexion. Besides, she uses me with a more exalted respect than any one else that follows her. What should I think on’t?
It’s just luck; everything’s luck. Maria once told me she liked me: and I’ve even heard her say that if she were to fall for anyone, it would be someone with my looks. Besides, she treats me with more respect than anyone else who works for her. What should I think about it?
Here’s an overweening rogue!
Here’s an arrogant fool!
O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkey-cock of him: how he jets under his advanced plumes!
Oh, quiet! Thinking too much has made a proud rooster out of him: look at how he struts under his fancy feathers!
’Slight, I could so beat the rogue!
Damn, I could really beat this guy up!
Peace, I say.
Quiet, I said.
To be Count Malvolio!
To be Count Malvolio!
Ah, rogue!
Ah, you scoundrel!
Pistol him, pistol him.
Shoot him, shoot him.
Peace, peace!
Quiet, quiet!
There is example for’t; the lady of the Strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe.
There’s an example for it; the lady of the Strachy married the servant of the wardrobe.
Fie on him, Jezebel!
Shame on him, evil woman!
O, peace! now he’s deeply in: look how imagination blows him.
Oh, quiet! now he’s really worked up: look how his imagination is fueling him.
Having been three months married to her, sitting in my state,--
After being married to her for three months, sitting in my position,--
O, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye!
Oh, I wish I had a sling, to hit him in the eye!
Calling my officers about me, in my branched velvet gown; having come from a day-bed, where I have left Olivia sleeping,--
Calling my servants to me, in my fancy velvet gown; having just gotten out of bed, where I left Olivia sleeping,--
Fire and brimstone!
Fire and brimstone!
O, peace, peace!
Oh, quiet, quiet!
And then to have the humour of state; and after a demure travel of regard, telling them I know my place as I would they should do theirs, to for my kinsman Toby,--
Then acting with the dignity of the state; and after a brief, serious look, telling them I know my place, just as I would want them to know theirs, to support my kinsman Toby,--
Bolts and shackles!
Curses and chains!
O peace, peace, peace! now, now.
Oh, quiet, quiet, quiet! now, now.
Seven of my people, with an obedient start, make out for him: I frown the while; and perchance wind up watch, or play with my--some rich jewel. Toby approaches; courtesies there to me,--
Seven of my servants, all following my command, go after him: I’ll frown the whole time; and maybe wind up my watch, or play with my--some expensive jewel. Toby comes near; he bows to me,--
Shall this fellow live?
Should this man be allowed to live?
Though our silence be drawn from us with cars, yet peace.
Even though our silence is forced, we must still stay quiet.
I extend my hand to him thus, quenching my familiar smile with an austere regard of control,--
I stretch out my hand to him like this, hiding my usual smile with a serious look of control,--
And does not Toby take you a blow o’ the lips then?
And doesn’t Toby hit you on the lips then?
Saying, ’Cousin Toby, my fortunes having cast me on your niece give me this prerogative of speech,’--
Saying, "Cousin Toby, since fate has put me in your niece’s life, allow me to speak,"--
What, what?
What, what?
’You must amend your drunkenness.’
"You need to stop drinking so much."
Out, scab!
Get lost, you scoundrel!
Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of our plot.
Hold on, be patient, or we’ll ruin everything.
’Besides, you waste the treasure of your time with a foolish knight,’--
"Besides, you’re wasting your time with this foolish knight,"--
That’s me, I warrant you.
That’s me, I bet.
’One Sir Andrew,’--
"One Sir Andrew,"--
I knew ’twas I; for many do call me fool.
I knew it was me; people often call me a fool.
What employment have we here?
What’s going on here?
Now is the woodcock near the gin.
Now the bird is almost in the trap.
O, peace! and the spirit of humour intimate reading aloud to him!
Oh, be quiet! And let the spirit of humor read it out loud to him!
By my life, this is my lady’s hand these be her very C’s, her U’s and her T’s and thus makes she her great P’s. It is, in contempt of question, her hand.
I swear, this is my lady’s handwriting. These are her exact C’s, her U’s and her T’s, and this is how she makes her big P’s. It’s definitely her handwriting, no question about it.
Her C’s, her U’s and her T’s: why that?
Her C’s, her U’s and her T’s: why does that matter?
[Reads] ’To the unknown beloved, this, and my good wishes:’--her very phrases! By your leave, wax. Soft! and the impressure her Lucrece, with which she uses to seal: ’tis my lady. To whom should this be?
[Reads] ’To the unknown beloved, this, and my good wishes:’ -- her exact words! Wait, let me see, wax. Hold on! And the impression of her seal, just like she uses to seal letters: this is my lady’s handwriting. But who is this for?
This wins him, liver and all.
This is going to win him over, completely.
[Reads] Jove knows I love: But who? Lips, do not move; No man must know. ’No man must know.’ What follows? the numbers altered! ’No man must know:’ if this should be thee, Malvolio?
[Reads] Jupiter knows I love: But who? Lips, don’t move; No one must know. ’No one must know.’ What’s next? The numbers have changed! ’No one must know:’ could this be about me, Malvolio?
Marry, hang thee, brock!
Damn you, you filthy creature!
[Reads] I may command where I adore; But silence, like a Lucrece knife, With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore: M, O, A, I, doth sway my life.
[Reads] I can command where I love; But silence, like a Lucrece’s knife, With a bloodless strike, my heart does wound: M, O, A, I, control my life.
A fustian riddle!
What a load of nonsense!
Excellent wench, say I.
Brilliant, I say.
’M, O, A, I, doth sway my life.’ Nay, but first, let me see, let me see, let me see.
’M, O, A, I, control my life.’ No, but first, let me think, let me think, let me think.
What dish o’ poison has she dressed him!
What kind of poison has she served him?
And with what wing the staniel cheques at it!
And with what confidence the falcon dives for it!
’I may command where I adore.’ Why, she may command me: I serve her; she is my lady. Why, this is evident to any formal capacity; there is no obstruction in this: and the end,--what should that alphabetical position portend? If I could make that resemble something in me,--Softly! M, O, A, I,--
’I can command where I love.’ Well, she can command me: I serve her; she is my lady. This is obvious to anyone who thinks about it; there’s no confusion here: and the end, -- what should that alphabetical order mean? If I could make that fit something in my life,--Hold on! M, O, A, I,--
O, ay, make up that: he is now at a cold scent.
Oh, yes, figure that out: he’s lost the trail now.
Sowter will cry upon’t for all this, though it be as rank as a fox.
Sower will keep shouting about it, even if it’s as obvious as a fox’s scent.
M,--Malvolio; M,--why, that begins my name.
M,--Malvolio; M,--that’s the first letter of my name.
Did not I say he would work it out? the cur is excellent at faults.
Didn’t I say he’d figure it out? The dog is great at finding flaws.
M,--but then there is no consonancy in the sequel; that suffers under probation A should follow but O does.
M,--but there’s no logic in what happens next; it doesn’t make sense. A should follow, but O does.
And O shall end, I hope.
And O will end, I hope.
Ay, or I’ll cudgel him, and make him cry O!
Yeah, or I’ll beat him up and make him yell O!
And then I comes behind.
And then I’ll come in from behind.
Ay, an you had any eye behind you, you might see more detraction at your heels than fortunes before you.
Yeah, if you had eyes in the back of your head, you might see more slander behind you than good fortune ahead of you.
M, O, A, I; this simulation is not as the former: and yet, to crush this a little, it would bow to me, for every one of these letters are in my name. Soft! here follows prose.
M, O, A, I; this trick isn’t the same as the last one: and yet, to twist this a bit, it would flatter me, because each of these letters are in my name. Wait! here comes some prose.
’If this fall into thy hand, revolve. In my stars I am above thee; but be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon ’em. Thy Fates open their hands; let thy blood and spirit embrace them; and, to inure thyself to what thou art like to be, cast thy humble slough and appear fresh. Be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants; let thy tongue tang arguments of state; put thyself into the trick of singularity: she thus advises thee that sighs for thee. Remember who commended thy yellow stockings, and wished to see thee ever cross-gartered: I say, remember. Go to, thou art made, if thou desirest to be so; if not, let me see thee a steward still, the fellow of servants, and not worthy to touch Fortune’s fingers. Farewell. She that would alter services with thee, THE FORTUNATE-UNHAPPY.’ Daylight and champaign discovers not more: this is open. I will be proud, I will read politic authors, I will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash off gross acquaintance, I will be point-devise the very man. I do not now fool myself, to let imagination jade me; for every reason excites to this, that my lady loves me. She did commend my yellow stockings of late, she did praise my leg being cross-gartered; and in this she manifests herself to my love, and with a kind of injunction drives me to these habits of her liking. I thank my stars I am happy. I will be strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and cross-gartered, even with the swiftness of putting on. Jove and my stars be praised! Here is yet a postscript.
’If this falls into your hands, think about it. In my stars I am above you; but don’t be afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them. Your Fates open their hands; let your blood and spirit embrace them; and, to prepare yourself for what you are about to be, shed your old skin and appear new. Be rude to family, surly with servants; speak like you’re a politician; act like you’re someone special: she advises you that sighs for you. Remember who praised your yellow stockings, and wanted to see you always cross-gartered: I say, remember. Go on, you are made for this, if you want it; if not, stay a steward, just another servant, unworthy to touch Fortune’s fingers. Goodbye. She who would trade places with you, THE FORTUNATE-UNHAPPY.’ Daylight and open fields don’t reveal more: this is clear. I will be proud, I will read political authors, I will outwit Sir Toby, I will wash off bad acquaintances, I will be sharp, the very man. I am no longer fooling myself, letting imagination trick me; every sign points to the fact that my lady loves me. She recently praised my yellow stockings, she admired my leg being cross-gartered; and through this, she shows her love for me, and in a way, forces me into these habits she likes. I thank my stars I am happy. I will be strange, bold, in yellow stockings, and cross-gartered, as quickly as I can put them on. Jove and my stars be praised! Here’s yet another postscript.
’Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If thou entertainest my love, let it appear in thy smiling; thy smiles become thee well; therefore in my presence still smile, dear my sweet, I prithee.’ Jove, I thank thee: I will smile; I will do everything that thou wilt have me.
’You can’t help but know who I am. If you accept my love, let it show in your smile; your smile suits you well; so keep smiling when I’m around, my dear, I beg you.’ Jove, I thank you: I will smile; I will do whatever you want me to.
I will not give my part of this sport for a pension of thousands to be paid from the Sophy.
I wouldn’t trade my part in this fun for a fortune of thousands, even if they came from the King of Persia.
I could marry this wench for this device.
I could marry this girl for pulling off this prank.
So could I too.
I could too.
And ask no other dowry with her but such another jest.
And I wouldn’t ask for anything more than another joke like this.
Nor I neither.
Neither will I.
Here comes my noble gull-catcher.
Here comes my great fool-catcher.
Wilt thou set thy foot o’ my neck?
Will you put your foot on my neck?
Or o’ mine either?
Or on mine?
Shall I play my freedom at traytrip, and become thy bond-slave?
Should I risk my freedom and become your servant?
I’ faith, or I either?
I swear, I would too.
Why, thou hast put him in such a dream, that when the image of it leaves him he must run mad.
You’ve made him so dizzy with your tricks that when he wakes up from it, he’ll go crazy.
Nay, but say true; does it work upon him?
But seriously, is it working on him?
Like aqua-vitae with a midwife.
Like strong drink with a midwife.
If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark his first approach before my lady: he will come to her in yellow stockings, and ’tis a colour she abhors, and cross-gartered, a fashion she detests; and he will smile upon her, which will now be so unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted to a melancholy as she is, that it cannot but turn him into a notable contempt. If you will see it, follow me.
If you want to see the results of this prank, watch how he first approaches my lady: he’ll come to her in yellow stockings, a color she hates, and with his legs crossed in garters, a style she despises; and he’ll smile at her, which will be completely wrong for her mood, since she’s so serious and melancholy, and it’ll just make him look ridiculous. If you want to see it, follow me.
To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent devil of wit!
To the gates of hell, you genius of wit!
I’ll make one too.
I’ll join in too.